The Way I See It
by Angel Leviathan
Summary: Tell me what’s going on here. Just tell me, I’m this close to beyond caring, either way.


Title: The Way I See It

Author: Angel Leviathan

Spoilers: Anything, everything.

Season: 7

Disclaimer: SG-1, characters, concept, etc, aren't mine.

Notes: Lyrics at the very end are sung and written by Sinead Quinn. Fic occurs after 'Grace'.

* * *

She'd managed to get them to postpone their party plans until she felt well enough to actually enjoy it. Asking Janet to babble medical terminology at the three most important men in her life had worked, though it had been an effort to hide her smile when they stared blankly back and assured her they'd hold off until…whatever it was…was…back to how it should be. Now Sam lay curled up on the sofa in her front room, lights off, the only light coming from the TV she was attempting to take an interest in. She'd forced herself to eat a microwave meal and promptly collapsed on her sofa, fleecy blanket drawn around her as she decided some mind-numbing entertainment was for the best. So mind numbing she wasn't paying any attention. 

_Twinkle twinkle little star…_

Sam shook her head, trying to physically dislodge the song from her mind. Enough was enough. Whatever it was that had affected her on the ship, concussion, her actually losing her mind for once in her life, sleep deprivation, whatever, she wasn't impressed that the tune, and the memories, still lingered. Pausing, she swore she heard her doorbell ring. She decided it was her mind playing tricks on her, and settled back down into the blanket. Sighing, Sam decided she couldn't ignore the second, rather insistent, ring at the door, and so got up from the sofa, padding through the room to her hallway, to reach her door. Yawning, she opened it, staring as she found her CO on her doorstep.

Jack narrowed his eyes in concern, "…You don't look so good…"

"…Too tired, Sir," she answered.

_'Samantha, I'm a figment of your imagination. You're gonna call me 'Sir'?'_

"Sleep?" he proposed.

No, this certainly wasn't a figment of her imagination, "…I was thinking about it…"

"Maybe less thinking and more of the actual sleeping?" he shifted on the spot, "Can I come in, or is this some form of 'anti CO' ploy?"

Sam smiled slightly and stepped away from the door. There had been a time in their lives when he could have just wandered into her house and she wouldn't have thought twice about it. Before they started thinking too much about each other. She shut the door behind him, nearly crashing into him as she turned back to her living room, finding him at the entrance, staring into the darkness.

"…I…I'll, er, get the lights," she said quietly.

"Carter, I'm the one barging into your house, you don't have to change anything for me," Jack stated, chastising her.

She stopped, hand outstretched, "…Sorry, Sir…"

He watched as she wandered into the darkened room, as she practically collapsed onto her sofa. All the fight had left her. Even her voice wasn't as strong as usual. She could get her ass kicked halfway across the galaxy and still pour out several hours of technobabble, mock Daniel, and, he was sure, subtly mock him, but several days alone on a ship had reduced her to…

"You can sit down, Sir," Sam called, yawning again.

"I figured…" he answered, joining her on the sofa, warily keeping his distance when she kept the blanket wrapped tightly around her.

"Come to give me a pep talk?" she uttered aloud, in the same tone she had before. She didn't even realise what was happening.

"That's what friends are for," Jack looked across at her.

She managed to stop herself continuing the conversation and just nodded, not making eye contact.

_'Would that change anything or is it just an excuse?'_

"Carter…"

"…Sir?" she exhaled.

"…Talk to me…" he said softly.

"Sir?" she snapped to attention, eyeing him, nervous.

A look of hurt passed across his features, "Are we even friends anymore, Sam?"

'_Because you don't feel anything for me?'_

"I wouldn't have let you in my house if you weren't my friend, Sir," Sam said quietly, evasive.

"You let workman into your house, Carter, they aren't your friends."

She sighed, again, "…I guess not."

He reached for her, pausing as she flinched and moved ever so slightly away. He withdrew and stared at the floor, "…Come back to me, Sam…"

She shook her head, the light of the TV reflected in her eyes, "…I can't do that…"

'_Might as well be honest.' _

"Cart-"

"I'm _tired_, Sir," she looked up at him, "I'm tired of this whole thing. I'm just sick of…_everything_. No, Sir, we aren't friends. Friends wouldn't do this to each other. Some days I feel physically sick at the thought of going into work and doing 'what's appropriate', smiling when I don't mean it and making out everything's damn well better than okay. I just…want to have a day where I don't have to double check everything I say out loud," she shifted to face him, "I dropped the 'Sir' for a second! You were so shocked!" she shook her head, "…I just…I can't do this anymore. Tell me what's going on here. Just tell me, I'm _this close_ to beyond caring, either way."

'_I will always be there for you. No matter what. Believe me.'_

"Carter-"

"My name is Sam."

"…What happened to you up there?" Jack whispered.

"Nothing," she snapped, "Just tell me the truth. Anything. Even if we're not friends anymore, just tell me."

'_I'd let you go right now if I knew.'_

"Carter, you-"

"For the love of god, _Jack_ just tell me!" Sam shouted, unshed tears shining in her eyes, hands balled into fists.

"Sam-" he reached for her again.  
"Don't touch me!" she tried to push him away.

"_Sam_," Jack stubbornly tightened his arms around her, even as she hit him and tried to free herself, "Sam…"

"…Don't…touch…me…" escaped as choking sobs, her struggle becoming weaker.

He pulled away from her, desperately capturing her lips with his own. He continued to kiss her until she ceased struggling, holding her as she shook. He broke away, gazing down at her, searching her eyes in the darkness.

"…Don't…do that…" Sam said weakly.

"Why not?"

"…Because we're not friends anymore…" she whispered.

"No, Sam," he drew her back into an embrace, "…We're more than friends…"

"…And in the morning…?"

"By the morning there'll be no 'Sir' and no 'Carter'."

* * *

'_I can be an island, that's okay, I can be the dawn to my own day, baby feel free to walk, to walk away, to walk away. This is the way I see it, this I the way I feel it. You can either take or leave it. But if you stay then love me all the way, love me all the way, or don't love me at all.'

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_

Fin


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